Code of the Wolf

“Neither did I,” Serenity muttered.

Helene caught up to them just in time to ask Serenity to take off her boots before she went inside.

“I just swept the floor,” she said apologetically. “If you wouldn’t mind…”

Her meekness was like a constant reproach, though Helene would have been horrified to realize that Serenity regarded it as such. Serenity hated the idea that Helene had to apologize for anything, especially to her. They were supposed to be beyond that here.

They were supposed to be free.

Serenity sat on the bench on the porch and pulled off her boots, leaving them standing against the wall. She, Helene and Bonnie went inside, where Helene had already prepared a pot of coffee. They sat at the kitchen table and talked for a while, speaking of inconsequential things: the baby’s increasingly frequent kicks, Bonnie’s newly completed quilt and the beginning of calving season. There would be hard work aplenty soon, and most of the women, including Bonnie and Frances, would be riding out with the rest instead of helping Helene and Nettie with the domestic chores.

“I never saw myself making a quilt,” Bonnie said wryly, “but I definitely never imagined I’d be working cattle.”

“I wish I could help,” Helene said, looking down at her chapped hands.

Serenity leaned over the table. “You are helping, Helene, much more than you should be in your condition. You’re invaluable to us.”

“Would you like more coffee?” Helene asked with a sudden grateful smile.

“You stay right where you are,” Bonnie said. “I’ll get it.” She exchanged a quick glance of understanding with Serenity. In spite of their vastly different backgrounds, Bonnie and Helene were fast friends, and Bonnie shared Serenity’s frustration with Helene’s humility and shame over her condition.

I could have been like her, Serenity thought. If things had been different. If she’d gone home with an illegitimate child in her belly, if her family had turned her out as a fallen woman.

Of course, they never would have done that. None of it had been her fault. It wasn’t as if she’d chosen to…

Stop. Sometimes the simple command was enough to keep her from thinking about it. But the stranger in the barn had brought it all back in a way the other men she’d dealt with—her fellow ranchers in the valley, the suppliers and storekeepers, the idlers and drunkards and ne’er-do-wells—never had.

She tried to focus her thoughts on other pressing problems, chief of which was what the men she’d shot at might do. Chances were they wouldn’t be in any condition to look for their attackers, and she’d seen no sign that they’d been following. But there was always a danger that they would decide to salve their masculine pride by tracking the women who’d humiliated them.

They wouldn’t like what they found at Avalon, but that didn’t mean Serenity could afford to pretend the threat didn’t exist.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Helene asked. “About that man. What happened?”

Serenity was considering her answer when Bonnie set a plate of beans and freshly baked bread on the table in front of her.

“Eat, Rennie,” she said. “I’m going out to get Frances and Changying. They need to eat, too.” She touched Helene’s shoulder. “You just sit quiet and drink your coffee. The baby needs her rest.”

Her. Serenity wondered what would happen if Helene gave birth to a boy. An infant was born into innocence, but could a boy be properly raised in a world of women?

She picked up her fork and tried to eat. Her stomach rebelled, but she kept at it, aware that Helene was watching her with hesitant but very maternal concern. She took her unfinished dinner over to the sink before Helene could move to take her plate, and went to her room.

Her gun belt was in the bottom drawer of her chest, along with her revolver. She buckled on the belt, readjusting to the weight of the pistol at her hip. Rifles were one thing; they had many uses on a ranch. But handguns were different. She hadn’t felt the need to wear hers on this last visit to town, but she realized now that it would not be wise to leave it behind again.

She returned to the kitchen, admonished Helene to rest, then went out. She passed Frances when she was halfway to the barn. The girl was running toward the house and hardly spared a glance in Serenity’s direction.

“Frances!”

The pelting footsteps slowed and stopped. “I’m in a hurry, Rennie!” Frances protested.

“Why?” Serenity asked, her stomach beginning to churn. “Has something happened?”

“No, but Bonnie said I had to eat. I want to go back and help Changying.”

Serenity didn’t believe that the healer needed any help. Frances’s fascination with the man was becoming worrisome. Under the circumstances, Serenity might have to forbid Frances to go anywhere near the barn.

She waved the younger woman away and went on, measuring each step. She would deal with this man. She would allow him to stay until he was fit enough to be taken into town and not a moment longer. She would keep him tied up at night, and at least one woman would guard him at all times.

It was a damned waste of precious resources, and Serenity hated him all the more for that.

A shout brought her out of her grim thoughts. Caridad rode with her usual flourish into the yard, Zora and Judith right behind. Caridad leaped from the saddle, removed her hat and unbound her straight black hair with a flick of her fingers. She studied Serenity’s face, her grin giving way to a frown.

“What is it, mi amiga?” she asked. Zora came up behind her on silent feet. Her sun-bronzed face showed little expression, but Serenity could see the concern in her eyes.

Serenity told them in as few words as possible. Caridad’s face went slack with astonishment. Judith shot a wary look toward the barn. She was the oldest woman at Avalon and didn’t say much, but her disapproval was manifest.

“I need to talk to Victoria,” Judith said. “I’ll take the horses.”

Once she was gone, Caridad burst into an eloquent string of curses. “Madre de Dios! How can this be, mi amiga, that you should bring such a man here?”

“I am sure Serenity had her reasons,” Zora said. She met Serenity’s gaze. “Do you think he is dangerous?”

“Dangerous enough to warrant careful watching,” Serenity said, glad to dodge Caridad’s incredulous question. But the former bandida wasn’t finished.

“If only I had been with you,” Caridad exclaimed. “I would have stopped you from making such a mistake.”

And Serenity would have been forced to defend the man, which would have been unbearable.

“I’m glad you weren’t there, Cari,” Serenity said, touching the woman’s arm. “You would have gotten yourself killed.”

“Ay! To miss such a good fight…”

“There may be another, if those outlaws decide to come after us.”

“We will be ready.” Caridad glanced at Zora. “We can ride out again and watch.”

“I don’t think they’ll come at night, but we’d better be prepared in the morning. If they haven’t shown up in a few days, we should have no reason to worry.”

“And by then we will know who this man is,” Caridad said. “And whether or not we must be rid of him.”

For a woman who had once ridden on the wrong side of the law in her native land, Caridad was far from merciful to one who might be in the same profession. But then, she had no reason to be, no more than did Serenity herself.

“I may need you in the morning,” Serenity said. “You should sleep, Cari.”

“Not yet. I must see this man.”

Serenity knew better than to argue. Caridad charged ahead, and Serenity might have been worried if she’d thought for a single moment that the Mexican woman would act against her wishes.

But she wouldn’t. For all her wild talk, Caridad accepted Serenity’s leadership, just like the others. Sometimes, in her darkest hours, Serenity wondered why.